It Myself and I
by Chenanceou
Summary: Spike goes to Africa. I built up my own AU for that little ecperience - though I wrote this before we got to see it.
1. Default Chapter

Title: In the Bag (It, Myself and I Series 1)

By: Chen

Disclaimer: All belong to ME (Grr! Argh!), not me.

A/N: Written shortly after Normal Again (S6 ep.17), this was based on some spoilage and a lot of speculation on my part.

-x-

He looked around and shook his head. When had his life become so pathetic? More important how had he, the Scourge of Europe, sunk so low? 

The chip.

No mate, you can't blame the chip.

It wasn't the chip, it was _her_. It had been all about her from the moment he had seen the Slayer that first time. 

He shoved another black T-shirt into the bag and stared at its contents. His life's possessions fit into a secondhand, frayed duffel bag.

It was time to do something about it. 

"That's soddin' right!" The vehemence in his voice reverberated on the crypt's empty walls startling him.

That is how low he had sunk: talking to the walls.

So what if he had no idea if this was going to work? Clem had assured him this demon could fix the situation – if he was willing to prove himself worthy. That shouldn't be a problem, since he had by now two years of experience in trying to prove himself bleeding worthy. 

With the problem taken care of he could work out the rest. He kept telling himself all he needed was to be his old self again. Almost believed it too.

  
"What's this?" Dawn had mastered the art of showing up in the crypt. Unlike her sister, she never barged in.   
  
"What does it look like it? I'm packing." Maybe if he was curt he could avoid any more questions he couldn't and wouldn't answer.  
  
"Duh! I know you're packing. What I want to know is why you're packing. Finally got an apartment or something?" Dawn stood by the sarcophagus in the crypt, waiting for an answer.  
  
"Now, that would mean that I got myself an income. And I'm chipped, not housebroken." Spike continued avoiding the girl's eyes by looking for more things to shove inside the bag.

  
"So what's up then?"  
  
"Packing. Leaving." He really cared for Dawn, but if there was ever a time he would rather be alone, that time would be now.

  
It took the girl a full beat before the unexpected news sunk in. "You can't leave! You promised to take care of me."  
  
Spike stopped and walked over to the her, realizing that she would soon be as tall as he was. Almost a lady, but still with a little girl inside. "Nibblet." When she didn't look at him he insisted, "Dawn. Buffy is all better now. You don't need me around looking after you anymore. It's not like when big sis' was gone. You've got her here to take care of you now."  
  
"Unless she's trying to kill us, she's never there." The teenager wasn't going to back down. "Plus you're much more fun to be around than she is." She reached out and held Spike by the arm, trying to make him stop feeding the beaten up duffel bag with the few belongings that had survived the lower level's explosion.  
  
"I can't stay, pet. Don't ask me why. I just can't." Willow had been rightly upset at him after the antidote fiasco. All she had asked him to do was make sure Buffy drank it all. Simple task even the whelp could have carried through. But she hadn't asked Harris, she had asked him. And had *he* done it? No, sir. He had gotten so miffed over Buffy's masochist trip that he had lost his temper, said a few hard truths, made a nice little threat and then left in a righteous huff. The consequences were that the stupid Slayer didn't drink the bleeding antidote and had almost served the Scoobies and Dawn as   
supper to the demon in the basement.   
  
"I know why you can't stay. It's Buffy, isn't it?" Dawn's eyes flashed with anger. "She did something to you? She was not herself you know. It was the poison Spike. Please stay."  
  
Her pleading voice almost broke his resolve, but he reminded himself that Dawn could have gotten killed. And he would be damned if he was going to stay around and be responsible for something bad happening to his girls again.   
  
No, he told himself, once had been enough. There was nothing left to put in the bag now. No use procrastinating the inevitable.  
  
"Don't blame your sis' for this, Lil' Bit! I know what I'm doing, mind me for once! Will you now?" He controlled his anger and softened his tone of voice, "I just have to do this. And it's not forever. I'm coming back." He zipped the bag shut and held the keys to the De Soto in his hands. Walking to the door of the crypt, Spike saw the sun was about to set on Sunnydale. "You should be running along now, pet. The sun will set soon and there are a lot of nasties out there."   
  
Dawn walked to the door and stood next to him. "Are you going to come over to the house? At least to say goodbye?"  
  
Buffy. He wasn't willing to test his resolve against a temptation of that sort. Not trusting himself to turn and look at her, he instead just stared straight ahead. "Not much for saying good-bye."   
  
"Fine." Dawn picked up her backpack, managing to convey all her resentment and anger as only a fifteen year old could.  
  
Spike smiled at the petulant tone of voice. Good, she was angry. Anger was better than sadness. Anger he could deal with. "Run along then."  
  
He stood there and watched the tall girl stomp her way out of the crypt. It was too early for any real danger, but still, he felt a tugging in his insides. Worry. Concern. Guilt. Love. All of those feelings were making his chest tighten as he watched her go. 

No looking back, remember? Don't be a poof. Just shut the door. Just go.

Spike told the voice to shut the hell up, as he continued to watch Dawn crisscrossing the tombstones. "Goodbye Dawn. You and Buffy... Take care of each other." He turned and picked the bag from the floor. Spike could hardly make her shape in the distance, when he whispered, "I love you Nibblet."


	2. It Myself and I 2

Title: Dust (It, Myself and I Series 2)

By: Chen

Disclaimer: All belong to ME (Grr! Argh!), not me.

A/N: Okay, it's presumptuous to call this a chapter, it's more like an interlude.

-x-

Dust. Dust everywhere. Spike looked at his prized duster and sighed heavily. The red dust had attached itself to the leather and he couldn't get it off. Couldn't the damn demon have chosen a more civilized place to set up shop? Trying to keep even a semblance of cleanliness was a loosing battle in the confines of Africa.

He got up from the cot in the stark room he had rented and made his way downstairs. Nobody would think to call the dump a hotel, but it would do. Time to go and find some platelets. Spike asked around and was guided to a decrepit hut where he could buy blood. He tried hard not to think about where the awful tasting thing came from or the obvious unsanitary conditions. Who would have thought he would miss the butcher shop back in Sunnydale?

Sunnydale.

Buffy. The reason he was here. The reason he had braved three weeks in that foul smelling cargo ship.

Don't think about it. Don't think about the feel of her under you. Don't think about the sweet and fresh taste of her warm lips. Just. Don't. Think.

He would be whole again. 

Shaking his head he made his way down the dirt road back to the dingy room, cursing under his breath all the way while the locals made a point of staying away from the crazy foreigner. 

Tomorrow he would begin the challenge. Tomorrow everything would be different.


	3. It Myself and I 3

Title: Just Say 'NI'(It, Myself and I Series 3)

By: Chen

Feedback: Do I have to ask?

Disclaimers: All things Buffy belong to ME (Grr! Argh!) and not to me.

A/N: Playing around with the whole getting a soul in Africa thing before it actually happened. So bear with me.

For all the blocked BtVS fan fic writers out there. I feel your pain.

-x-

Demon? Yes, the creature he had traveled half around the globe to meet and had finally found inside the thatched hut in the middle of nowhere, was unquestionably a demon. Spike had never seen one of that particular kind before though and didn't like doing business of such importance with this unknown quantity. 

The demon towered over Spike at seven feet tall with a green body that faded into a pale, alabaster face. The thorns covering his arms and chest added to the demon's singularity, making him look like a white rose.   

_A deformed and ugly white rose demon is my only hope_, Spike thought bitterly.

"What is the airspeed velocity of an African swallow?"

Spike was startled out of his reverie and looked stunned for a moment only to get pissed once the question had been processed. "Are you joking?"

"What ever happened to the vampires that say 'ni'?" The absurdity of the situation was doubled when the demon shook his head showing his clear disappointment. "Oh well, not a Python fan I gather."

Powerful Demon or not this thing was starting to wear thin his patience. "Is that the challenge?" 

"No, of course not. I was just trying for some humor. It isn't quite often that I get an English visitor, or any visitors for that matter." His tone was almost accusatory, "But it seems it's all business with you. What a pity." He sighed, "Have it your way then."

Conjuring an impressively long scroll out of thin air the massive Demon took his time reading over the documents. "Let's see, this contract states that you will undertake whatever challenge of my choosing and if successful I will be obliged to..." He looked up at the vampire. "What was your request?"

Spike had phrased the request very carefully, abiding to the numerous rules the demon had presented him. "To make me whole again."

"Yes, yes. Very nicely put I have to say. Not everybody manages to come up with the right request. Yes... You do understand that if you are unsuccessful you will be immediately terminated?" Spike nodded impatiently. "Well then, do you accept the challenge?"

"No, I came to Africa for the scenery. Of course I do!"

The acridity of the comment was lost on the demon as he had resumed reviewing the finer points of the contract after adding Spike's request to the proper clause. When he seemed satisfied, the scroll was ceremoniously handed to Spike who held his hand out for a pen to sign it with. 

"You are not going to read it first?" The concept that Spike was ready to sign without reading the contract first seemed to fill the Demon with horror. "You should never sign a contract of this magnitude, or any other for that matter, without reading what it entails!"

"Not like I have a choice there. You *do* have the monopoly on this, er, kind of service." With that Spike took the pen and signed on the dotted line with a flourish. 

_Might be the last thing I do_, he thought to himself.

The Demon checked the signature and eyed the blond vampire with amusement. Drawing himself to his full height he addressed Spike in what was now an impressive baritone voice, "The challenge has been accepted. Let it begin." 

Next thing he knew, Spike stood in the middle of what looked like a deserted Roman arena. Feeling a weight in his hand he raised it to find in it a sword. The sword itself was a thing of beauty and elegance. He swung it around trying to get a feel for its weight and balance – yes it would do.

Clicking his tongue in satisfaction, Spike couldn't suppress a smile of utter delight. "Fighting, uh? Couldn't think of something a tad harder?"

He did a quick survey and his senses told him something was amiss; there was no foe he could see or sense. How was he supposed to fight and win a battle if there was no opponent?

"Hullo there, wanker." 

Spike quickly spun around to face his opponent, his sword at the ready, only to stop dead in his tracks.

What the…?


	4. It Myself and I 4

Title: Bite the Dust(It, Myself and I Series 4)

By: Chen

Feedback: Take the time, make me happy.

Disclaimer: All belong to ME (Grr! Argh!), not me.

A/N: Action packed chapter. May I just say that action scenes are better 'seen' than written? I did my best. Oh, and there's a tad of bad language. 

And, with all due respect Mr. Fury, he is **NOT** evil!

-x-

"Hullo there, wanker." 

Spike quickly spun around to face his opponent, his sword already high, only to stop dead on his tracks.

What the...? The black jeans, the black T-shirt and yes, the boots... That vampire had *his* clothes on. No! Oh, no! This was wrong in so many levels it boggled the mind. The vampire approaching with sword raised and fangs bared, was him? 

_"What else could you expect from a bloody, Python watching, rose demon mate?" _

There was little time to think about the irony of the present situation for the other vampire was, by no means, having to sort out the bizarro factor of the set up. No, it was most decidedly not taken aback or taking pause to consider the implications and ramifications of fighting itself. What it *was* doing was attacking. Spike pushed all the questions out of the way and went into game face, reading himself for the battle at hand. Except, to add insult to injury, he couldn't go into game face.  

It took Spike almost a second too long to recuperate from the cold panic that seized him once he realized there would be no game face for him in this match. He felt and heard the blade of his opponent's sword as he successfully avoided it at the very last moment, the blade missing his neck by a threatening little distance. 

He backed away from the vampire, trying to understand what the hell was going on.  "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Mimicked the vampire with disgust in his voice. "I'm the warrior you used to be before you became the Slayer's pathetic lapdog."  The vampire drew closer and their swords met in the air, sparks flying where they impacted. "I'm the predator you used to be before you brought great shame to the House of Aurelius." Spike dodged another strike, but was not fast enough and it grazed his left arm, drawing blood. "I am..."

"A pompous ass with no style." Why couldn't blabber mouth there just keep his trap shut? Spike couldn't help but be humiliated by the reminder of how pathetically low the former scourge of Europe had sunk to. He *had* been legendary among vampires: William the Bloody was feared by one and all. Now... Now he was in god knows where, fighting god knows what, to get some semblance of who he had been back. 

_"Hello! Less whining, more fighting? That thing is trying to kill you."_

Yes, it was trying very hard to. There could be no room for mistakes here – it was do or die. He quickly assessed the demon in front of him and cursed to himself. Bugger! Not only did it seem to know no fear, but it also became painfully clear as the demon's blade made contact with flesh once again, that it knew Spike's every trick and every move. 

_"What is the matter with you? Gone from the neck up? He *is* you, of course he knows how to fight you!"_ the exasperated voice in his head taunted. _"Bloody think!"_

Over and over the demon's blade came down and over and over again Spike barely escaped from being seriously wounded. The cuts on his forearms burnt and the gash bleeding on his chest hurt like the fires of hell, but thanking some long forgotten patron saint of lost souls, Spike was glad he was still alive and able to fight.

Another blow and the weapons came together, the demon putting his weight behind the deadly blade, while Spike tried to avoid the impromptu scissors the two swords had formed. For the first time since the battle had begun he was face to face with his demon and what he saw in its eyes made him shudder inside. There was no life in there. No history. No individuality. There was only death and evil. The disgust he felt gave him the strength to shove the demon away far enough for him to escape with only another bleeding cut on his temple.

_"Do you really think *it* is all that you are?"_ The pesky voice in his head was back again. _"He's but a barbarian git with no imagination. And duck!"_ Spike obeyed instinctively to the voice, saving his neck from decapitation once more.

_"What say you? Time for the fat lady to sing, mate?"_ Spike silently nodded in agreement to the voice.

Trying to find an opening, Spike was ready to invert roles – he was getting tired of being on the receiving end. He remembered having seen Buffy using that move once and now was the time to try something new. He stood very still and the restless rebel in him clenched when he saw the golden satisfied glow of the vampire's eyes. 

_"Yeah, you humorless arse-licker, come and get me."_

The demon charged almost carelessly towards Spike, who made no move to intercept it. Standing still until the very last minute, he spun around like a matador performing _la Veronica_ with an indisputable grace that would have made _El Gallo_* proud. Suddenly his confidence returned and electricity coursed through his broken down body. 

Hell if he was going down! This was his bullring and that sorry excuse for a vampire was the one that would bite the dust. The demon had lost its balance after the failed charge and lay on the bloodied sand of the arena's floor for a moment before getting up and turning to face his foe. It was then that Spike's sword made its first, and last, contact with its flesh. In one elegantly precise strike, Spike severed the demon's head.

Spike laughed out loud with a joy he hadn't felt in a long time. "Olé! You mindless, ugly, bastard ponce!" 

_"Feeling quite effulgent, aren't we?"_ Spike winced, not knowing if from the wounds that now, with the battle done, seemed to be draining all his energy or from the familiar word. Where had *that* come from?

* El Gallo – famous matador in the beginning of the 20th century. 


	5. It Myself and I 5

Title: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition (It, Myself and I Series 5)

By: Chen

Feedback: That would be nice.

Disclaimer: All belong to ME (Grr! Argh!), not me.

A/N: Guess what? Almost over!

-x-

Spike leaned on his sword for support and wished for a fag with the last shred of energy he had in his body. He had defeated the vampire, but now what? 

"Hey mate! A little help here?" he said to the now empty arena. Before he could sink to the floor he was back to the hut, back in front of the rose demon.

"Not complaining or anything, but you could have given me a little warning about not being able to go into game face." 

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." The demon didn't bother to mask the chuckle in his voice or the mischief in his eyes.

"Could you please spare me the Python references? I'm bleeding here."

"Oh – so you do know them?" 

The joy was almost childish in its enthusiasm and Spike couldn't suppress a shudder of trepidation running down his spine. This was the Mighty demon who would now grant him his wish? What if he cocked-up everything? "I'm British, ain't I? Let's get back on track, shall we? Since I'm still here and not at the bottom of the dust bin, I assume that I passed the challenge."

"Yes. Brilliantly, I might add. I particularly liked the 'you mindless ugly bastard ponce' part. Very eloquent." The Demon eyed the little red puddle forming where Spike barely stood. "But you are bleeding."

"It will heal." The vampire dismissed it with a slight wave of his hand. What he really wanted more than anything was a fag. 

"Now to the granting of your request." Pulling out the contract, he gave it a once over and then faced the wary vampire. "The chip is no longer active due to your new condition. You will not be a slayer per se... Let's say you'll be somewhat like a slayer. You did have some insight to where her powers are rooted – darkness of course. But we all have a dark side. Don't we?" 

Receiving no answer from the flabbergasted vampire he went on. "You asked to be made whole. I did commend you on the wording of the request before. It is such a disappointment when they make it all the way over here and fail at that. The rules are quite rigid on this part of the process. The wording must meet what the challenger needs and not what he wants. Unfortunately so many are focused solely on what they want." Shaking his head like a disappointed parent, the demon let out a sigh, "Want. I have been around for millennia and I still don't get it."

Spike finally found his voice, "Slayer?" Was all he managed to get out.

"Oh pardon me for rambling on and on. It is just so rare to get an intelligent and pleasant young man like yourself to visit. One does get lonely, you know." 

Spike eyed the demon again, trying to figure out if there was the possibility the Rose One was making a play for him. Nah, he was just another prissy anglophile. Hopefully that was all there was to it. 

"Shall we then? Being whole, in your particular case, means you have now the balance that was missing. Your demon is no longer captain of the ship." He chuckled at his own metaphor? analogy?, but stopped when Spike failed to join in. "Your demon now shares the helm with your human side."

Spike felt the room sway and swayed with it. Did that blasted white, ugly rose demon say human? He frantically checked for a heartbeat and found none. "What do you bloody mean by human?" 

_Oh God, no. Please no. Not a soul._ He felt something in him sinking and sat heavily down on the first space available. Almost too afraid to hear the answer, Spike tentatively asked, "Am I getting a soul?"

"Oh Lord no! Good heavens no!" The notion seemed to shock the demon and his answer was music to Spike's ears. 

"You are getting two souls my dear!" The Demon informed Spike with glee.

And that was when Spike fainted.


	6. It Myself and I 6

Title: A Veritable Ray of Sunshine

By: Chen 

Feedback: That would be nice.

Disclaimer: All belong to ME's (Grr! Argh!), not me.

A/N: This is my version of what went on in Africa. Written before we actually saw it, I had only the 'goes to Africa and gets soul from demon' micro-spoiler to guide me. This follows 'Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition' in the series. Making it the sixth chapter in the It, Myself and I Series. Almost done folks. 

Kelly – all our afternoons brainstorming keep me focused. Mezz – a BETA like you is a gift from the Powers. So thanks to the two of you and to the wonderful Kimi and Colleen, who read my bits and pieces and *still* encourage me to go on.

This one is for Chris, because she said please.

-x-

Tentatively at first, but gaining confidence as the lack of smoking and pain reassured him, Spike wandered out of the hut and into the sun. 

This was just... neat, he thought to himself. No more unseemly blankets to cramp his style. No more running around with the smelly smoke trailing behind him when he needed to go out in the daytime. It had been a long time since he had been out in the sun. The last time he had met face on the hot eye of heaven was when he had the ring and... Buffy. Bugger it! He had to remember the Slayer even now when a whole world of possibilities and opportunities was spreading itself before him. Who was he kidding? He knew that as soon as he got back to the room he called his dump he would pack the few belongings he had with him and head straight to Sunnydale and back to her.

_"Luv, I have something to tell you. Remember when you called me a soulless vampire? Haha. No longer one. As a matter of fact, I have two souls. Is that souled enough for you, pet?"_ Spike laughed, but stopped abruptly. His chest felt heavy with a too often felt emotion. He had failed her again and a soul, or two, would not be enough to erase that from her, or his, memory.

Well, things were different now, weren't they? He now had a bloody, wanking moral compass, didn't he? A voice in his head painfully reminded him the Demon said he had had one all along.

_"William was always with you Spike. Being sired by Drusilla, herself being not your usual vampire, made you an unique specimen. William never left, he was just stifled by the demon and by your determination to get as far away as possible from your human side."_

Another piece of news he had to come to grips with. He rolled it around his mind for a while and then stored it away. First things first, think about meanings and consequences later. He would have plenty of time to think on the trip back home. Home. The Hellmouth, Sunnydale... Buffy was home.

Spike made his way back to the village and felt his skin starting to sting. He had to keep in mind it wouldn't do to be careless. He may no longer burst into flames, but after a century without being exposed to the sun, he could still get a nasty sunburn. 

He quickened his steps, taking a detour to the only place that sold half-decent fags. Standing on the shade outside the store, he tore the plastic open, took a fag out and lit it with the Zippo. Spike let out a content sigh after the first drag filled his lungs with smoke and the world started to resemble less a Dali painting and more the dusty, stinking and bug infested reality he was familiar with. He had a couple of packs of fags with him now, he had the money for the fare back home and he also had... A reflection? 

The laughter startled the locals who went on about their business after stopping for a moment to shake their heads at the odd, blond _mja_*, who kept staring and pointing at the glass pane on the storefront, laughing as if possessed by spirits. On the other side of the dusty road though, one of the villagers seemed to have a pointed interest in the blond stranger. 

He had seen the vampire walk into town in broad daylight with no protection at all. He now observed as it laughed at its reflection on the glass of the store's window. It was time to report back to headquarters and inform the Council how the situation had changed. The vampire now posed a serious and dangerous threat.

*The Swahili dictionary tells me that _mja_ means: stranger, new-comer.

THE END


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